


The Universe in a Grain of Sand

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: BDSM, Boys in Chains, M/M, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4240572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Gloriana</p><p>Obi-Wan bemoans his stature, and is taught a 'short' lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Universe in a Grain of Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> DISCLAIMER: George takes much better care of his characters than to ever let them appear in scenarios like this, and he gets all the money for it too.   
> SPOILERS: none 
> 
> The quotation from which the title is derived comes from William Blake's 'Songs of Innocence':
> 
> 'To see a World in a Grain of Sand,  
> And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,  
> Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,   
> And Eternity in an hour.'

Obi-Wan did not have his mind on the matter in hand, or rather mouth. Instead, he was brooding on the source of his discontent, a most un-Jedi-like activity. But it was just too much.   
  
He had put up with a lot. Having to dodge around the Zamodans on every corridor, because they never looked down to his level to check where they were going. Being forced to do the high-jump to get into his chair at mealtimes, then finding the table nearly at chin level. The way they all addressed him as 'small Jedi', as if he were some miniature toy rather than a competent adult. And the constant surprise they evinced at his size, since Zamodan young hatched fully-grown from pupae. You'd think they had none of them ever been off-world, he grumbled, if they thought every being came hatched at eight foot high, and skinny as beanpoles to boot.   
  
All that was bad enough, but the beds were the worst. Long and narrow, just shelves cut into rock alcoves, they afforded little comfort with their hard mattresses.   
  
"We are lucky to get mattresses at all," Qui-Gon noted from a point above his head. "If Jorman had not specially imported them, we would be sleeping on bare rock."   
  
Obi-Wan ignored the strain in his master's voice. While he was grateful to the previous representative on this backwater planet for obtaining that concession from the Jedi council, he still lamented Jorman's failure to procure sleeping alcoves more than a few feet wide. Obi-Wan had missed sleeping with his master, and even with a bed to himself had come close to falling out a few times. But it wasn't the hardness or the width of the beds that was currently annoying him, as he craned his neck to flick his tongue over the head of Qui-Gon's cock. It was the damned height of the things!   
  
If it was the high-jump to get up to table, it was a pole-vault to get into bed. Qui-Gon's gentle amusement at his straits had not helped his temper. Now Qui-Gon was getting a taste of his own medicine: from his perch on the edge of the bed, he could not support himself with feet flat on the ground, but had to balance on his toes. All of which made Obi-Wan's own position, kneeling with arms on those powerful thighs for support, more unstable than it should have been. As he licked his way up the long penis, his nipples grazed against the cold stone shelf once more, the chill distracting him from his task.   
  
He was supposed to be driving Qui-Gon crazy with lust. They had played this little game many times before, but the lessons were always there to be learnt by them both. Qui-Gon honed his control over the Force, sitting bolt upright as Obi-Wan assailed him with his tongue. His hands could curl into the sheets, he could groan and sweat as much as he liked, but the moment he thrust into Obi-Wan's mouth, or tilted his pelvis in entreaty, he would lose. Obi-Wan for his part learnt patience and tactics: how gentle licks all over his master's scrotum could have the same effect as water dripping on stone, how to wait until Qui-Gon was lulled into a moment's relaxation before running his curled tongue over the leaking slit at the tip of his cock. And Obi-Wan usually won.   
  
But all his favourite tricks were being badly impaired by the change in height of the bed. He couldn't easily wrap his mouth around Qui-Gon's upright penis, which was now at eye-level rather than neatly near his chin. And he was getting a crick in his neck, licking anything higher than the man's perineum. This was not one of his better days.   
  
"Use your hands." Obi-Wan took note of the strengthening brogue, the distinctive upward lilt on the last word of the command. Qui-Gon was getting worked up about something.   
  
He huffed his own impatience in a sharp breath. "I'll need the oil."   
  
"Go and get it, then." His master's tone was very terse now. Obi-Wan rose slowly from his knees and wandered into the tiny room next door. Yes, Qui-Gon *had* left the oil up above the shower again, a few foot out of reach. How he wished the man would not do that! Or that he himself hadn't stopped growing when he reached sixteen. Well, at least they were leaving this haven for the over-tall the next day, all negotiations successfully complete. Obi-Wan used the Force to topple the bottle off the shelf, checking first that the lid was on securely - his experience with the liquid soap this morning had been less than pleasant. He hated tapping into the Force for such trivial purposes, but he had an impatient master in the room behind him.   
  
Kneeling back down between Qui-Gon's spread legs, he was aware of the older man's gaze rivetted to his body, gleaming naked in the light from the shower room. He knew that from his master's superior height, the curve of his own buttocks was tantalisingly clear, so he made as much play as he could of shifting on his knees to find the right position. Then his oiled hands were running over Qui-Gon's cock, and the man's eyes shut tightly.   
  
Obi-Wan took his time, oiling the length between his palms in slow upward strokes. He was not surprised to see the muscles cording in Qui-Gon's shoulders at each pass of his hands, nor the jaw clenched tight to prevent betraying moans escaping. But it was awkward work, keeping to the gentle rhythm with his shoulders forced up by the height of Qui-Gon's legs. Not nearly as bad as yesterday, though, when his arms had ached from hauling down the heavy ledgers off the shelves of the Guild library. And his poor calves were complaining at the pressure of kneeling, after days of climbing stairs cut too high for his natural stride. Force, how he *did* wish he had grown that extra foot during his teens, to at least meet his master's height! It would have made trips like this so much easier, to just be able to...   
  
"Padawan!" The explosion of sound made him jump so hard he knocked over the bottle of oil. "How many times have I told you to keep your mind focussed on what you are doing! What are you daydreaming about now?"   
  
Obi-Wan looked up guiltily. "I was just wishing I was a bit taller, master," he admitted, realising belatedly that his hands had slowly slackened their pace in his distraction.   
  
"Taller, hmmm?"   
  
Too late he recognised the implacable note in Qui-Gon's voice. His master's hands had settled on his shoulders and he was hauled to his feet, Qui-Gon following him up in one swift movement.   
  
"Master, you're not supposed to move - you're breaking the rules - hey, what are you doing?!"   
  
His protest was abruptly cut short as he was tossed onto his stomach, the hard surface of the bed winding him for a moment. As soon as he had gasped in a breath, he pushed himself back up on his elbows and started to complain bitterly, "Not fair! You used the Force to do that! You're not supposed to -"   
  
Again his breath was violently expelled, this time by Qui-Gon's bulk landing squarely on him, forcing him flat once more.   
  
"Haven't you yet learned, small Jedi?" His master's voice hissed menacingly in his ear. "Your enemies will pay you no mind when you cry foul - and a Jedi Master plays by no rules at all."   
  
He struggled to get free, at first physically and then with the Force, but Qui-Gon held him down easily, deflecting the few objects Obi-Wan could find to hurl across the room at him. He reared up behind his apprentice, straightening his arms till only his large hands dug into Obi-Wan's back, pushing the padawan down into the mattress. Finally Obi-Wan lay still in grudging surrender, arms pinned by his side, only his chest moving as he struggled to breathe. Against his hips he could feel the hair-roughened skin of Qui-Gon's thighs, and there was something hard and cold just at the cleft between his buttocks. Remembering the impressive organ he had neglected so badly, Obi-Wan could not help the shiver of apprehension that ran through him.   
  
"So, you are too short." Qui-Gon's statement seemed rhetorical, but when Obi-Wan failed to respond he leaned back down and nipped hard at the soft skin of the young man's neck. "Answer!"   
  
"Yes, Master," the reply was barely whispered: Obi-Wan had little breath to spare for more.   
  
"And your concerns with your own appearance occupy your mind more than pleasuring your lover."   
  
"Master, it's not appear-"   
  
Another sharp bite interrupted his excuses. The soft feathering of Qui-Gon's hair brushed the abused flesh a moment later, tickling away the pain.   
  
"On certain planets, *small* Jedi, humans have devised ways of making people taller. Do you know what they are?"   
  
"Master, I can't bre..."   
  
"Do you?" The sharp tone cut him short again.   
  
"No, Master." His voice was thready now.   
  
"They take them, and tie them to a rack. And then, small Jedi, they stretch them, very slowly. Till they have attained the requisite height. I think that solution might work very well for you. Perhaps you would care to concentrate on this, since you cannot keep your mind on other things."   
  
Suddenly the great pressure on Obi-Wan's chest was released, and he gratefully sucked in a lungful of air. It took him a moment to realise he could still feel Qui-Gon's weight on him: in fact, the larger man had lowered himself all the way back down onto Obi-Wan, and they were pressed together, the hot skin of his master caressing the contours of his back. A moment longer, and he worked out what had changed. He was levitating, a few inches above the coarse woollen blankets.   
  
"Are you paying attention?" A voice like liquid honey dripping off a knife blade whispered in his ear again.   
  
"Yes, my Master." Freed of the urgent fight for oxygen, Obi-Wan was quicker to respond this time.   
  
"Good. Now, feet flat against the wall, small man."   
  
He felt the rough stone cold against the soles of his feet, sought to bend his knees and found he could not. Qui-Gon was holding him rigid, like a spar projecting from the wall, while he balanced his own body on his padawan's. Only when the Jedi Master pushed his feet between Obi-Wan's and separated them ruthlessly could the younger man move his legs at all.   
  
Obi-Wan was stunned at this display of power. The Force thrummed around them as Qui-Gon held them both effortlessly aloft, crackling along the older man's pale skin with radiating threads of gold which glowed in the dim light. Obi-Wan's padawan braid, hanging to the bed, began to twitch with its own life, as if surrounded by static electricity. Where was Qui-Gon finding the strength to summon so much energy to himself? His padawan had bemoaned being treated like a toy doll by the Zamodans, but in the face of such control over the Living Force he felt as helpless as a child's plaything. Except it was no child riding his body so.   
  
"Distracted again? Never your mind on where you are - or where you should be. Focus, boy, feel what I am doing to you!"   
  
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and felt.   
  
Wedged between his feet, spread awkwardly on the wall, were his master's larger ones, ankle bones hard against his tendons. Those muscled thighs were pushed between his, but because Qui-Gon's body was so much longer the hard pressure of his cock had moved up to the base of Obi-Wan's spine. The soft flesh of Qui-Gon's belly touched his ribs, his head tilted back against the curve of Qui-Gon's collarbone. And his master's arms were sliding along his, elbows crooked, till long fingers were wrapped around his wrists.   
  
Then Qui-Gon slowly started to straighten his arms.   
  
Obi-Wan's eyes flew open as a startled cry left his lips. Suddenly an immense pressure was building up along his body, but not the vertical pressure he had felt when Qui-Gon lay on top of him on the bed. No, this was horizontal, every muscle stretching as Qui-Gon's inexorable hold on his wrists pulled his body out, while the immovable Force pinned his feet to the wall.   
  
"M-Master," he wanted to stammer a protest, but Qui-Gon immediately sushed him.   
  
"Relax, Padawan. Let your body loosen. Release yourself."   
  
Obi-Wan bit his lip in concentration, trying hard to obey. Under the steady tugging, muscles which had been knotted for days were slowly stretching back to their correct positions. Bunched calves released their tension; vertebrae realigned themselves down his spine. The tendons running from shoulder to wrist straightened in imitation of the powerful forearms pushing themselves parallel to his own.   
  
Once again Obi-Wan could barely breathe, now because his torso was being stretched so hard. He vividly remembered watching a craftsman spinning glass in the market the day before, pulling the long fibres of molten sand into delicate hollow tubes. He was like the gleaming strands of glass, and Qui-Gon could shatter him with a single puff of air.   
  
"Not too much more, please my Master. I can't..."   
  
"No?" The answer was quick and brutal. "But you can. You just do not make the effort. Perhaps I can provide a - prod - to help you along."   
  
Obi-Wan sighed in relief as Qui-Gon's hold on his wrists slackened slightly, his master curving his body up away from the padawan's, taking off a bit of the pressure. But his body went rigid again as the next sensation jangled across his nerve endings: a blunt cock was slowly pushing between the cheeks of his buttocks.   
  
"Gods, Qui-Gon, please!" The inarticulate request was all he could manage.   
  
"Too much, small Jedi?" His master's mouth was once again at his ear, and he tried to twist away as the older man seized his earlobe and sucked it between his lips. Hopeless attempt. The beard scratched at his neck, while the thick head of Qui-Gon's cock was slowly forced into the puckered opening. Despite the copious quantities of oil Obi-Wan had laved over it, it still felt huge, distending the tight ring of muscle sliding gradually over it. Obi-Wan wanted desperately to bend his knees or spread his legs further, anything to make the passage easier, but his feet were still firmly anchored in place.   
  
"Do you feel me, Obi-Wan? I will stretch you, push into you till you are full of me. Are you paying attention to me now, Padawan?"   
  
"Yes, oh yes, Master," Obi-Wan whimpered, as the crown of Qui-Gon's cock finally breached the ring of muscle that clenched over it. He cried out again when it was stretched once more by the flaring column of Qui-Gon's erection, as the bigger man slowly pushed all the way home into his lover.   
  
He was completely filled: how could he hold such girth and length within him? He wanted to sob, to shift any part of his body that would bring him relief from the awful pressure. So why were waves of pleasure running through his body, all centred on that hot spike impaling him? It stung and burned as it stretched him, but with a slow liquid fire, as if he were being filled with velvet wrapped round molten gold. He could not bear this.   
  
"Focus." The whisper was gentle, warm. Love and caring laced the two small syllables together. "Feel only me."   
  
Swallowing a sob, Obi-Wan shut his eyes again, closing out all sensations except that incredible pressure at the core of his being. The warmth of Qui-Gon's skin against his, the fine trembling in the long legs spreading his own open, the brush of lips against the soft hairs at the base of his neck: he let them all fall away. There was only one reality: his master buried in his body. Concentrating, ignoring the cold sweat pooling in the base of his spine, he opened himself completely to receive his lover, loosening all the tightness with which he had surrounded the older man. Qui-Gon gave a great sigh, and pushed in to take the proferred advantage.   
  
"Well done, my love." That deep voice was shaking now, face buried in the nape of his neck. "I need you to do another thing, sweet Obi-Wan. Tighten round me again. Please, my Padawan."   
  
Obi-Wan drew in a great breath, and as he filled his lungs with air he flexed his muscles round the cock within him, as if there were not space for both inside him. Qui-Gon's muffled groan rumbled through his own chest, but all he could care about was the intensified awareness of his master's presence in his own body.   
  
Without being asked, he began to repeat this mystical pattern, relax and tighten, on and off, zero and one. It was as if the the universe was encompassed within the simple movements of his body. Dimly he was aware of Qui-Gon's fingers once again clasping his wrists. The powerful legs were straightening as the arms had done earlier, driving Qui-Gon ever deeper when Obi-Wan opened to him. No movement back out: Obi-Wan could not conceive of a time when Qui-Gon might not have been rooted like this in him. To let him retreat would have been anathema. This was reality, and it was glorious.   
  
Slowly he became aware of the quiet voice whispering to him again. "Come back, love, come out now. Extend. Expand. The world is around you. Come back."   
  
No, he didn't want to, surely he could stay in this moment forever. He had never come as close to understanding the truth of the Living Force, the truth his master knew so intimately.   
  
But impinging on his consciousness now were new sensations. There was a gnawing ache in his stomach, where fingers trailed across the twitching flesh. There was another hand buried in his crotch, spreading the semen leaking from the slit at the top around the tender skin of his cock. He gave an involuntary cry as a calloused palm enveloped his erection.   
  
"Yes, my Obi-Wan. Feel this too, this is good too."   
  
As his senses slowly came alive again, he shifted the rhythm of his own body to match that of Qui-Gon's hand caressing his engorged penis. Hunger was building in him now: urges too strong to be denied. He wanted to move, to rub his body against his master's, to have that magnificent cock plunge in and out of him with the rasp of friction on his prostate that he knew could madden him into ecstacy.   
  
Whether Qui-Gon sensed the sea-change in him, or whether his own movements were wearing down his master's control he did not know, but suddenly he could bend his knees again, till they touched the surface of the bed below him. Collapsing down onto hands and knees, he took the weight of his master onto his bowed back once more, pushing up his hips in desperate query.   
  
Qui-Gon responded immediately, reaching for Obi-Wan's braid with his free hand and wrapping it round his fist as he pulled almost out of his padawan, then plunged back in. With his other hand he pumped Obi-Wan's cock mercilessly, till the younger man was howling his need and want with an abandon he had never shown before. Qui-Gon's voice goaded him now, pleading with him to come, come hard, come now, oh my love, faster, faster...till Obi-Wan surged back on him and came with a wild wail of sound.   
  
They slept then, even though the bed was too narrow for two. For had they not seen the whole universe fit into one moment? 


End file.
